Flip Flip Flip
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: Set after You Kill Me. Grissom goes home and is bored.


A/N – This is just a quick one-shot. You have to wonder… just what's going on between Grissom and Sara while she's gone? It's set right after You Kill Me.

Disclaimer – CSI is owned by CBS/Paramount.

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**TITLE: Flip. Flip. Flip.**

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Flip. _These interesting creatures are Macrochelys temminckii, otherwise known as the Alligator Snapping Turtle – _

Flip. _Welcome to the WWE. Tonight, The Rock takes on --_

Flip. _– this condition, known as the Butterfly Effect describes the initial conditions of the Chaos Theory –_

Leaning back against fluffed up pillows, the lamp burning low next to his bed, Grissom clicked off the droning television and dropped the remote. Looking to _her_ side of the bed, he watched Hank inhale strong and heave out a pathetic groan. Shaking his head, he plucked his book from the night stand, and started scraping his hand around the tan blanket in search of his discarded glasses.

When Hank made to heave out another moan, Grissom sighed and reached out in time for the boxer to roll toward him, belly up in a sad attempt to say, _you haven't been paying enough attention to me._ This was confirmed moments later, when the dog soaked up the attention from the momentary tummy rub.

Feeling a bit guilty at having set aside his dog's needs, Grissom indulged his canine companion a bit by focusing on petting belly, chest, and muzzle. When Hank's dismal expression turned to blissful, Grissom laughed. All the while, he was thinking, _Well, I wonder if this is destined to be my evening entertainment._

The buzzing of his cell phone gave him a moment of enthusiasm, and he grabbed it nearly praying, _let this be something interesting. Let this be something interesting._ Reading the caller ID, he grinned, flipped open the cell, and heard the laughing, "Are you as bored as I am? It's nothing but reruns tonight."

"Hey Sara," he said, the grin forming slow and wide on his lips, making him sit back against the crush of pillows behind him. "When would I ever be bored? I have my cockroaches and bees to keep me busy," he said. Thinking back to several hours before, having worked for over an hour with one of his best and brightest creatures, Grissom sighed in satisfaction. His cockroach racers were coming along well, but done with that particular endeavor, he found himself not really wanting to _do_ anything.

Sinking a bit into the pillows, he sighed, "Yeah. You could say I'm bored. I've already seen the special on snapping turtles, you and I watched the show on chaos theory months ago, and I _refuse_ to watch wrestling."

"So read me something," she ordered, a grin evident in her voice.

Scraping his hand a little more around the blanket, he sighed, thinking, _where the hell did I put them?_

"Check on top of your head, Gil" came through loud and cleared, along with the not-so-muffled husky laugh.

Reaching up, he grinned ruefully, and said, "Yes, dear," before dropping the glasses onto his nose.

Turning a couple of pages, he murmured, "How about a little Emerson?" He could all but _hear_ the smile on the other end of the line, and added, "How about my favorite part of _To You,_"

"_Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,  
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;  
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,  
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,  
They stand forth out of affairs – out of commerce, shops, law, science, work, forms, clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying._

_Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;  
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,  
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you._

_I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of you;  
None have understood you, but I understand you;  
None have done justice to you – you have not done justice to yourself;  
None but have found you imperfect – I only find no imperfection in you;  
None but would subordinate you – I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you;  
I am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself."_

Silence met the partially read poem, and he wondered what she was thinking. The CSI in him knew the tough woman would rail against weakness in herself; the lover hoped she understood he would always stand by her.

"Thank you," she rasped, the watery tone not lost on him.

A soft silence followed, and Grissom removed his glasses, placing them on the bed. Relaxing, he listened to her breath echo through the phone. Closing his eyes, he imagined her face, and asked, "How is it going?"

"Pretty good," Sara answered hesitantly. "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

An unintentional laugh accompanied Grissom's, "Yes. I believe your words were 'I don't know why, but I'm not sad right now. I'm really pissed off.'"

"Yes, oh master of quotes and other stuff," she chuckled in return. "You're right on the money. I talked to my mother today; not for long, but long enough. I need answers, and I'm not the kid willing to take 'no' for an answer anymore. I'm not sure she knows how to take me."

Surprised she was talking about it, Grissom sat up straighter. Searching for something to say, he thought back to the day she'd blown up at Conrad and Catherine, and finally stated, "Well, honey, you _do_ tend to get things out when you're angry. Plus, you're strong and capable. I have no doubt you'll find what you're seeking."

"Thanks," she responded.

He heard the heavy breath blow out through nearly closed lips, and could imagine her brow furrowing in thought. "You _will_ tell me when you're ready to come home?" he asked, in his usual calm tone.

"Of course," she replied, and Grissom let out a silent breath he hadn't realized he'd held until that moment. "Now tell me how Hank is doing."

As if the boxer telepathically recognized being talked about, he rolled off his back and crawled up to sit next to his master, placing his head on Sara's pillow. Laughing, Grissom replied, "He's lonely without you. He mopes around all day."

"I miss him, too. I miss both my guys."

Smiling into the phone, Grissom reached out for his glasses, dropped them once more on his nose, and grabbed the television listing. Stroking the dog's head, he asked, "What are you doing tomorrow evening?"

"I don't have any big plans," she replied. "I'll probably just hang out and watch TV, or maybe read something. I'm seeing my mother sometime tomorrow morning. What are you planning?"

"There's an interesting documentary on nineteenth century poets that's supposed to air. Care to watch it with me?" he asked.

"Tell me the time, and I'll find the channel," she replied. "In the meanwhile, tell me what's happening there. Any interesting cases last shift?"

"I just had a really weird shift," he murmured. "Really quite strange, now that I think about it."

"Weird how?" she asked. The enthusiastic curiosity evident in her voice had him relaxing into the story.

"Well, it's been so quiet at home, I've been spending some extra time at the office," he started, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was walking with Brass down the hall, and he started pointing out the extra hours, wanting to know how you're doing. Then he wants to know how _I'm_ doing."

The snorted, "Brass asked you that?" on the other side of the line had him smiling.

"Later, Nick comes by and starts implying that he'll lend me his ear if I want to talk," he continued. "Finally, Catherine starts talking about how I have all this vacation time built up. She tells me I should take some time off and go after you."

"Catherine said that?" Sara asked, surprise tingeing her voice.

"Yes," he replied.

"You felt uncomfortable by all of the attention," she stated in a trance of thoughtful contemplation. Letting out a long breath, she finally said, "I hadn't meant to make you deal with the aftermath of my leaving."

"It's all right, dear," he replied. "You can make it up to me when you come home."

"How about I marry you?" she quipped, to be met by silence.

Caught of guard, something akin to relief washed through him and he replied, "Oh, Miss Sidle, that's a given."

As soft chuckles gave way to calm quiet, Sara finally asked, "So, same time as usual?"

A smile on his face, eyes closed, he scooted slightly down the bed, laying a bit more prone, "Absolutely. Same time tomorrow."

Again, they lapsed into silence, until Sara finally said, "Thank you for being home this evening to talk and for being so… understanding."

"Sara, I know what it feels like to be on the edge," he replied. It wasn't long ago he'd felt a knife edge coming down over his life, when a dead boy died in the hands of a pedophile. Internalized agony could crowd out anything decent in the world, making it impossible to see beyond the grief. "Do what you need to, okay?"

"I'll call you tomorrow, then," she responded. Quietly murmuring, "I love you," they both hung up.

For a moment, Grissom contemplated the loneliness that flowed in and around him during day and night. Even though he _knew _she would be home one day, the disruption of routine and recognition missing from their home made a gaping hole, more easily filled outside the confines of their intimate place. With a sigh, he resolved to do what he must, and reached over to her side of the bed. With a quick pet to the dog, he once again picked up the remote.

Flip. _Coming up on SPIKE, CS—_

Flip. _We are going to take this house and get it ready to sell on a budget under—_

Flip. _The Ornithoptera goliath, also known as the Goliath Birdwing Butterfly, is one of the largest butterflies in the world…_

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A/N – Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. Please review.


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